Pro Amante Meo
Something akin to heat, the burning draw of desire. A feeling she had come to know all too well. Perhaps it was a part of her very being entirely to some degree and yet the feeling was unshakable. Even without a sound, as pinpricks stung at her neck, it was easy to know. Even with silence and the deafening ring of loneliness in her ears, Evyette would not be fooled. But maybe, just maybe, that was why she had a smile on her face.
Something akin to heat, the burning draw of desire. A feeling she had come to know all too well. Perhaps it was a part of her very being entirely to some degree and yet the feeling was unshakable. Even without a sound, as pinpricks stung at her neck, it was easy to know. Even with silence and the deafening ring of loneliness in her ears, Evyette would not be fooled. But maybe, just maybe, that was why she had a smile on her face.
“I know you’re there. No amount of silence is going to hide you from me,” she played her hand.
There was rarely ever time to play games or relax when so much was constantly happening. Being an ancient came with an often-busy schedule when dealing with a list of things which needed managing. Or at least it felt that way at times. But there was a certain weightlessness which accompanied her when she felt his arms scoop her up from her seat. Calm she attempted to defy with a surge of white flames, only to feel a chill across her body when it was met with a torrent of black. Dark embers flickering beneath the white flares around her.
She’d have never thought there could possibly be a form of pleasure derived from such a cool feeling. Embraced in chilling arms no one else could possibly imagine in such a way. Exotic touch. Exotic love. Yet Evyette could hear Hellfire’s heartbeat so clearly, like a war drum, thrumming against her ears. The signifier that it wasn’t cold like death, but the chilled embrace of life. A kiss to her forehead, a kiss against her cheek, a kiss on her lips and several more. It was nice to be pampered, but of course it would eventually come to an end.
“My ma would be ashamed if she learned I was getting caught so easy.” His voice deep, his words carrying a subtle rhythm. That same accent he had picked up from his childhood. “Then again, I’m takin it pretty easy on you.”
“Please. You never show mercy to anyone. Not unless specifically asked nicely.”
“That’s some bold talk. You assume I’d listen to the whining of some upstart little jit who’d beg for a free pass.” Seeing her smirk made Hellfire sigh. “You made your point, hot head. I am certainly merciless.”
“Unless I ask you nicely?”
“Unless you ask me nicely, and promise a reward. I ain’t cheap, remember?”
It was an entirely unique experience in its own right to see the ancient of fire laughing in his arms. There was no possibility in his imagination that he’d ever find himself no longer enthralled by Evyette’s voice. He’d soon steal her seat, but it wouldn’t matter seeing how he had no plans of placing her down. On the opposite end of that spectrum Evyette would often have to consider how few people could manage to be so bold in the first place. Being the ancient of the house of fire wasn’t a title which came with leniency as a descriptor, but Hellfire wasn’t the type to care for such things at all. The type to quite literally sweep her off her feet given the chance.
“You almost make it sound like you’re some expensive prostitute when you talk like that,” she poked at his chest.
“Well, I am pretty damn expensive. If I weren’t there’d be a hell of a lot of dogs scratching at the door to your heart hopin to be let in. Or at least in your pants. Not that they’d have the balls to take that chance. Or the tits. Or whatever.”
Evyette smirked. Wrapping her arms around his neck and looking him in the eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re scared. I’m not nearly as desirable as you assume.”
“Hah! I ain’t scared of nothing. And I was born at night; I wasn’t born last night. I doubt there’s a single cuck out there who sees you once and ain’t slobberin at the thought of replacing me.”
“You really think I’m that much of a catch?” Evyette asked.
Hellfire leaned in close. Strands of slick black hair nearly touching her face, the scent of cold coals and deep whiskey on his skin. “I’d bet on it.”
“Oh? And what are you betting?”
“My heart,” he whispered.
“Funny. I’ve already laid claim to that, so it's not worth much.”
“Ouch! Then I’ll make you a fine dinner.”
“You are a good cook, but isn’t that too normal?" She asked while pressing her finger against his nose. "You make me dinners all the time when you feel like it.”
“True, but this time… let’s see… I’ll sneak my way into Lunia’s realm and slay something I haven’t cooked for you before. Make a proper banquet. Does that work?”
“That will do,” Evyette smiled smugly. “And if you win, let me think... I’ll go visit Cyva and ask her opinion on lingerie to try on for you.”
“Now we’re talking. We just need to find a way to even do this. We could always ask people their opinions, but they’d lie if we did that… maybe we could—”
He paused when Evyette poked at his cheek. His eyes looked at her in the same way they always did, the vibrantly blue orbs which seemed to house flames within, hungrily starving for something. “Sorry to say, Mia, but you’ve already lost.”
“Huh?” She was surprised to see him thoroughly confused.
“There was a time when Quina, Noxvon and I were all a thing. While things ended with Quina quite amicably, Noxvon just… broke up with me. So, I win. You, sir, owe me a five-star banquet.”
Evyette had a certain expectation when telling Hellfire something like this. She expected to see his surprised expression when learning he had lost this challenge, this bet between two lovers, before it had ever even begun. She expected playful frustration. A peeved smile and perhaps one of his sly and carefully, snarky remarks on how he had clearly been cheated in some way. Only to inevitably give in after falling for her natural charms. Charms he could easily resist and couldn’t even be called proper charms, but he just seemed to enjoy falling for her over and over again. As if it were like a drug to be hers. And yet that wasn’t what she got.
Instead, she watched as his face slowly changed from that usually playful and carefree smirk to something she knew too well. Baring his fangs in a disgusted sneer. His eyebrows dipping deep at the bridge of his nose, ears twitching and eyes widening in a familiarly savage way before a deep crimson glow sparked at their centers. The cold of his flames reversing into a rising heat. A fun little game had quickly become the spark of his most prominent characteristic towards others, and something Evyette had found herself favorably lucky to never be the target of… his deep and unrelenting hatred.
“Is that right? Noxvon of all things?” Hellfire’s voice clearly had wicked intentions.
“Oh no, come on, it’s not that serious. It was long enough ago to not matter at all anymore. Don’t worry about it.” Evyette attempted to calm him, but by now he seemed livid enough for that to be an impossibility. “Let’s just relax Mia. It’s no big deal. Really.”
“You want me to relax? I ain’t gonna lie, there’s a lot of shit I’m willing to put up with, but the resident passed-around treasure ain’t gonna get away with thinkin—”
He paused. Evyette’s hands resting against his chest, as if attempting to quell the building rage with a touch. Like snuffing out an unrelenting flame or stanching a profusely bleeding wound. He sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to back down. His wife was just as stubborn as he was, after all. “Jerimyha.”
“Yeah… yeah. I know,” he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Leaning his head back for a moment before looking up to the ceiling with a freshly blue gaze. “I’ll calm down.”
“Good. While the red is hot, the blue is hotter.”
“I owe more and more to my ma every damn day.”
“There’s something sexy about it, don’t ask me the details. Cyva thinks the same thing. Speaking of which, I do have a surprise for you.” Evyette said with a smirk.
“I do like surprises. Is it the heart of a dragon? I’ve been wanting to cook one of those.”
“Nope, even better.”
“Better than a dragon heart? Now I’m intrigued.” Hellfire joked as she leaned closer to his ear.
“You still have to make me my meal because that was our deal. However,” she paused while moving her lips even closer to his ear before whispering. “I already talked to Cyva about the lingerie. Want to give me your opinions now? Maybe get into a bit of mischief?”
Hellfire didn’t even need more of an explanation or any formal convincing. Evyette could only laugh as he jumped up without a word; still refusing to put her down even when sprinting his way to their bedroom. Even to this day she couldn’t fathom the type of training Kikana had put them through to make it possible for him to move so carefully at such speeds without making a single sound with his steps, but it only made it funnier. He wasn’t like his sister or brother and didn’t care to move around silently as they did. It only made him seem even more serious about seeing her in her new outfits. Or lack-thereof.
“If you seduce me like that you should expect me to follow through,” Hellfire said as he tossed Evyette down on their bed with a comfy bounce.
“You know I’m counting on it, Mia.”
—
He watched as her chest moved up and down. Each breath making the softest audible sound, and he found comfort in such things. Hellfire leaned over Evyette and looked at her closely, as if taking in the view to be committed to his memory. Carefully moving her hair aside before kissing her once on the lips and once on her forehead; then he backed away slowly and stood from their bed. A moment to look at himself, as if checking his scars and wounds before placing his shirt back over his body and carefully buttoning up each button… then he grabbed his sword from its place next to their bed. It almost looked as if it wanted nothing more than to be held and used.
He’d stop just before leaving the room. His body aching to go forward, and yet he wouldn’t go without confirming his thoughts. Even if she were asleep and wouldn’t hear them. He whispered the words in his mind. The previous crimson glow staring at her with outstanding hints of care from the doorway. He knew full well that he was being selfish, but did he not deserve that? A being of such astounding hatred and yet he was always tasked to give and serve. Surely this was a choice he had every right to make… even if it wasn’t truly proper.
Sorry, Evy. Turns out I’m not much different than I was before. Still incapable of forgiveness.
The halls of Novevu’s home in the void were particularly quiet, even with the ancient present. He and Florita were somewhere around the place, doing whatever it was they did behind closed doors, but that didn’t matter. Noxvon was much more comfortable sitting on the balcony reading a book he had recently managed to acquire. Mari-Mitta always had interesting literary finds, but that was mainly due to her bringing them from within her paradoxes. Possibilities yet unknown and knowledge untapped. And yet he found himself distracted.
His eyes peered from behind his mask at the void pup sitting at the edge of the balcony. The white fur made it obvious that this was Litnia; if not that then the blank stare, as if there wasn’t a single present thought, would have been more than enough to give her away. For a moment he wondered if simply telling her to leave would be enough to make it happen, but everyone alive knew that wouldn’t work. And yet, as he prepared to go back to reading, he noticed the claimant’s head tilt to the side before she stood to her feet. For a moment he thought she’d return inside, but then she wandered to the edge of the balcony and jumped off.
“Well… at least she’s gone.”
“You’ve got other things to worry about,” Noxvon spun to find the source of the voice standing at his back.
The strong scent of Rhihon accosting his senses. A chill across his skin, like ice dancing over him. Noxvon had never known this feeling before and had wished to never know it. His eyes rested on Hellfire with a rather confused expression, but something was not right. He could tell with a single glance that the fire claimant was not in a mood befitting a casual visit. His eyes looked as if they were attempting to peel back his skin and extract something from underneath. His face had none of the usual quirks for someone as playful as Hellfire was when it came to conversation. No fun. No games.
“Underworld?” Noxvon spoke his name but was met with a click of the tongue.
“You know, you’re still one of the only things who call me that. Most choose to call me Hellfire.”
“Most don’t know the meaning behind both names. I do, and I won’t forget.”
“Still upset when I rob your work from you? It doesn’t matter if you forget. What matters is that you understand. It ain’t a request, just me pointing out the facts. And speaking of facts, I would have words with you.”
This was bad, and Noxvon knew that. On one hand it was never a good sign to have Hellfire show up unannounced, while on the other hand the Rhihon’s temperament was difficult for too many to deal with. If this were any other claimant, like Mayray, he’d expect information or some sort of deal. If this were Gahbreal he’d likely have something important to say or confirm. Even if it were Kikana she’d tell him what needed to be said and be gone without any secondary talk or banter. But him? Hellfire only did what he chose to do with specific, personal purposes in mind. Not to mention his history of willingness to attack treasures. That would be the worst-case scenario.
Looking at him wasn’t enough to tell if he was hostile, normally, but his attire was familiar. He wore black slacks and a black shirt with the top two buttons undone. A black, full length trench coat embroidered with gold and black leather shoes. Black leather gloves… and his sword within its scabbard held tightly in his left hand. Compared to his own casual yet formal wear, black slacks, a silver paisley vest and a white shirt underneath, there was a clear difference. Noxvon had been relaxing… Hellfire was wearing the clothes he wore for combat. He’d need to resolve this quickly and without a fight, if possible.
“What do you want, Underworld?” Straightforward would be the best way to handle this, or at least that was what he decided.
“You know, I had a certain idea in mind. But let’s just talk for a moment.”
“Talk? I don’t see any issues with a conversation.” Although it was odd enough to raise brows. “And what exactly do you want to talk about?”
“You see, I ain’t the type to get upset on the behalf of others. It just isn’t my style… Struggle. Fight. Grow. Those are the key ingredients to maturing. No one can avoid them. Right?”
“I can understand your opinion, but not everyone thinks the same way.”
“True. But I feel as if I’d be failing myself if I didn’t act here.” His voice became more and more sinister with each word until his head lifted, and his eyes stared at the treasure down his nose. “I just decided I’d be a little selfish about it.”
“You’ve always been rather selfish.”
“Hah! Maybe I have been! That said, it should make this all the easier to get into your fuckin skull.” Several steps, but they echoed as if bouncing inside his skull. Noxvon watched as he casually closed the distance until they were face to face. Hellfire wasn’t even all that tall, only being slightly above Mayray who was the shortest in their entire family, but in a direct faceoff he certainly knew how to make it feels as if you were against a giant. Then he spoke again once he was close enough for Noxvon feel the frigid aura from him. “It has come to my attention that you, of all people, unfortunately decided to end a relationship with Evyette in the past.”
“That’s what this is all about? You came here unannounced for something so trivial? I had my reasons. Did you need details?” It felt almost as if this had become some petty quarrel between children.
“I don’t need nothin like that. I’m just gonna demand you apologize to my wife for being such a dumb fucking idiot. Because you’ve got to be the cream of the crop of dumbasses if you broke up with her. That’s my condition here.”
“Condition? You enter this realm much unlike your own, trespass in my home and make demands like this to my face? Surely you jest.”
“All you’ve got to say is, I’m so sorry for being so fucking stupid, and we’ll be square.” Every word was like kindling to live flames. Eating away at his peace of mind. Building the fire… the rage… At that moment Noxvon knew full well that he was attempting to manipulate him with rage. And yet…
“I won’t be apologizing for anything. I made my choice based on sound reasoning, and I don’t regret it or intend to act as if I do because you feel like I should. Now, if that is all, you can return from where you came, and I’ll turn a blind eye to this trespass.”
“That’s wonderful, really.” The words were surprisingly happy, and Noxvon had no idea why. Based on the situation he had shown up expecting something only to be refused and turned away. What was expected was lashing out in anger or perhaps some vague words of warning. Hellfire was particularly good with his threats, after all. But instead, he was met with a widening smile and eyes like live, crimson flames. Staring at him with so much desire it was unsettling. “I was so desperately hoping you’d refuse my offer.”
Anyone with eyes and ears could tell what was happening. Hellfire hadn’t come to resolve things, no matter how he made it seem. He had come solely for retribution, and Noxvon knew that better than anyone else. It was easy to tell when watching the claimant before him draw his executioner’s sword from its scabbard with each of its serrations clawing at its insides. Sparks scattering with each passing moment until the savage blade was fully revealed. He lifted his weapon with a single hand, holding it off to his side in a manner Noxvon did not know him to do. It was unnatural for Hellfire; a stance he’d never before taken against anyone he’d seen… but then he recalled the past and his name.
Jerimyha ‘Chisuke’ Rhihon. A name which held both mystery and secrecy. On the surface he was the standardized Rhihon claimant with a knack for seduction and the skill to get his hands on information others couldn’t. Meanwhile, beneath that surface, he had been taught to fight with an extreme precision and trained to gain that information with the most diabolical means possible. His body sculpted by Harvel and Phita to be at its absolute peak, his mind and character molded by Kikana to bring the highest class of etiquette and grace to his every move, and his personality and character hardened in the midst of the two. A swordsman, an assassin, a torturer and a murderer. All bathed in royal resolve, and yet Noxvon knew the savagery in the cracks.
Hellfire was both a title and a curse. A name for many to be fearful of while also marking him as someone to consider hostile. Tied to Lilith’s home out of spite, but fitting for his family. Underworld was another thing entirely. Regarding his flames at their peak and the fate they carried at their utmost. That was why Noxvon thought it best to simply settle this quickly. That was why he called his weapon to his side, the scythe which rang with light reverberation upon its arrival.
“Stand down, Underworld.” Part request, part demand. Clearly Noxvon did not realize the contrast between Hellfire and others.
“You seem confused. Your own parent can barely get me to listen to their whims, but you think yourself worthy?” His expression did not change and neither did his choice. “Te para.”
(Prepare yourself.)
—
There were several things to consider when fighting Hellfire, but the most important two were his flames and his temperament. Depending on the two you could be either chilled to the bone or burned to cinders, but Noxvon could not fathom why he refrained from using them.
The bout started with Hellfire lunging in his direction with a casually swift strike and that alone was enough to make him think. He’d only ever heard about it, but from word of mouth it was made to be believed that Hellfire was a savage and uncontrollable combatant who overwhelmed his victims with heavy strikes and wild swings. And yet, and he avoided the first swing of his sword, it was difficult to ignore just how refined his movements were. There was no wasted energy or overextending actions, and when Noxvon retaliated with his own strike he avoided it with as little movement as possible.
The fight itself was mostly more of the same for several moments. Noxvon avoiding Hellfire’s attacks as if flowing with the very wind itself; yet the latter always moved just enough to make the scythe slip right by him without even grazing a hair. It felt almost… rehearsed. As if the battle itself were more in line with a dance than an actual fight, but then there was suddenly a change. A thrust from Hellfire’s blade which was avoided with a sudden twist and swing, but instead of the slice of a blade through the air a metal ring echoed out. A dissatisfied Hellfire staring directly at Noxvon and the flat of his sword intercepted his weapon. His eyes both disgusted and disappointed.
“Is that it? Surely you’re capable of more than this.” The words felt as if they were chosen specifically to taunt him. Like words Novevu would say. “Is this all you treasures are capable of?”
“Your insults won’t faze me, Underworld.” Noxvon responded as his weapon struggled against the Rhihon’s.
“Insults? I’m just stating my own options. So far, counting you, I’ve had dealings with two of you. And both have been underwhelming and bland. First a coward… and now this?”
The scythe pushed against his sword with greater force, knocking him back and black flames burned at his heels. He slid across the floor, leaving a trail of black fire in his wake which quickly returned to him once he stopped and smothered up his legs and into his shirt. Hellfire had now been pushed through the door and into the room adjacent the balcony. A simple side room which looked as if it were meant for lounging or relaxing. Then Noxvon entered the building behind him and narrowed his eyes. He seemed particularly annoyed, but Hellfire’s expression remained the same.
“I won’t stand have my name slandered by you.”
“Then again, perhaps you’re right. It was pretty unkind of me to group all of you treasures together. That would mean I’m insulting someone who I suppose I should consider a daughter of sorts. You, on the other hand, barely seem to qualify. You Dimea are all worthless outside of my direct family.”
“I’m still a Desdon, Underworld.” Noxvon hissed.
Hellfire shrugged. Lifting his sword once again as his brow furrowed. Now, however, his expression was even more serious than before. “Fine. I’m done playing. I came here for a reason, after all. Para animam tuam.”
(Ready your soul.)
His approach was more or less the exact same as before, but there was a clear difference between then and now. Primarily his speed. The time to dodge was cut substantially and he could see the serrations on the blade’s edge hungrily wanting to cleave through him. What was once a calm dance had stepped up in pace and tempo. The time to react and strike was much shorter and his overall aggressiveness had spiked. Avoiding his sword wasn’t a major issue for Noxvon, slipping past his swing as his body almost seemed to contort and slither past his blade, but he couldn’t land a clean hit either. Hellfire’s steps were all so refined, and when he defended himself it was like striking against a wall.
Things seemed relatively fine. That is, until a sudden parry made Noxvon step back. Like vines of black spirits slipping across the room and through the doorway. He now found himself in the hallway, black cloak donned and his mask placed calmly over his face. He turned his head slightly, spotting Novevu down the hall with the slightest traces of concern, but no words were shared. Only a stare which moved to the doorway when Hellfire finally stepped out into view and looked his way. Both did not speak. Both did not move. Then both turned away. Novevu vanishing further into the halls with nary a care and leaving Noxvon and Hellfire to their business.
“Desdon, huh?” Hellfire spat out as he approached the treasure. “You were never a Desdon. You’re a fraud. A Dimea just like my brother living on birthright. It’s no wonder you’re so callously weak. A placeholder keeping the seat warm for Ritunen or the Law brat. Even Vetani in all her wiles would serve better than you.”
“The choice wasn’t mine to make, and I do what is asked of me without fail. I play my part as treasure of this house.”
“Is that right?” Hellfire asked as his sword closed in. Noxvon stepped out of the way quickly and stood unfazed. It was becoming more apparent by the second that something wasn’t right about all of this.
“What are you doing?” Noxvon questioned him. “Why are you fighting like this?”
“Well, look at you! So you can tell when things are unnatural.”
“Answer the question.”
Hellfire sighed before making his approach again. Now, however, his steps now carried sound with them. Lacking the precious silence. Echoing off the walls which each step. “I had wanted to avoid attention, but that’s off the table now. And I’d rather not damage anything that belongs to Novevu. So, I’ll have to fight a bit more conservatively.”
“You’re insane,” Noxvon hissed. It only made Hellfire laugh. "Do you not fear death?"
“If I were that easily swayed by the possibility of death I wouldn't be capable of living. But, now that Novevu knows I’m here, it should be fine if I make a bit of a racket. So long as I don’t destroy anything.”
“You keep talking and acting as if I’m not even a threat, but I can assure you that you will not leave this place unscathed. This senseless violence won’t go unpunished!”
“Senseless? Have you already forgotten what I came here for? Is it so meaningless to you that you’d let it slip your mind?” His frown deepened, his brow furrowed, as if all his rage was now boiling to the surface. “You are the one facing punishment for what you have done to my bride. That is all that matters!”
His scythe swirled around before intercepting an attack from Hellfire’s sword, sparks scattering though the air as Noxvon reeled from the impact. Another swing and he’d slip beneath it. His scythe slicing upward with a metallic ring, but finding itself slicing against the flat of Hellfire’s blade. Another scattering of sparks through the air, like stars filling the hall as their dance continued. Or at least it felt like a dance until he stepped back but Hellfire closed the distance instantly. One hand behind his back, the other holding onto his sword as the blade screeched with each swing. As if its edge were cleaving through the air around them and drawing cries of pain.
It was unrelenting, the string of attacks he employed with expertise and precision like only a master could. Noxvon’s entire focus placed on dodging and avoiding the strikes as the sword howled all around him, but the moment he planted his feet on the ground for a moment he felt an unfamiliar pressure on his right foot. Looking down to see Hellfire’s own holding him in place. He expected the claimant to laugh or mock him, but instead he removed his hand from his back and clasped his executioner’s sword’s hilt with both hands before flying into a frenzy of blows. Each was powerful, each was fast, each had to be blocked since he couldn’t just step away. A clash which lasted longer than he wanted it to, but the moment he saw an opening he took it. Slipping his foot from beneath Hellfire’s and spinning into a cyclone beneath his blade before diving low.
His scythe swung with him, like a squid propelling itself in a spiral before lashing out towards the Rhihon’s legs. A properly timed finishing blow… and yet he heard the loud slam before he could even register what had happened. His weapon pinned to the floor, Hellfire’s foot resting atop it and looking up all he could see was a gaze filled with more malicious intent than what could physically be believed possible. He swirled his sword through the air, catching every spark which had been scatter on his blade before they boiled into a red and yellow flame; surging heavily before being entirely engulfed into a deep black. He raised his sword high and spun the weapon into a circle of fire. Then, with the momentum he’d created, swung the sword downward upon him.
“Isn’t that just wonderful,” Hellfire’s voice echoed down the hall. Noxvon lifted himself to his feet, watching from several paces away as the Rhihon’s weapon stopped just before touching the ground. “So, what would you call this?”
“This isn’t over yet,” Noxvon retorted.
“I know very well that it hasn’t ended. I’ll be the one to decide the end.” The clattering echo of his sword dropping on top of his scythe drew his attention first. Then Hellfire’s approaching footsteps. He removed his coat and tossed it to the floor; then rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. The wounds on his arms still looked just as fresh as the days he received them, but they weren’t his focus when the claimant stopped right in his face.
“You still wish to fight?”
“It’s not a wish. It’s a must. I won’t abide any insults to my wife. Past, present… or future. Now put your fucking paws up.”
—
The light tapping of paws on the floor could easily be traced to Litnia making her returned to the building. When she had smelled Hellfire initially she decided to leave as quickly as possible, but by now she’d have hoped he’d be gone so she could go back to waiting for Noxvon to eventually feed her. He had the souls and she had the stomach, after all. Instead she returned to find Hellfire’s scent still going strong in the building, but now accompanied by the distant sound of heavy impacts which caused her ears to perk up. A casual trot quickly became a more cautious run. And it didn’t take long for her to arrive and the scene of their confrontation. Previously a bout of two forces, now more akin to a one sided struggle.
No matter the bias one might have, it was obvious from looking that Hellfire was leagues ahead in hand to hand combat. In fact, it looked almost as if he were almost specifically fighting against all of Noxvon’s strengths. When he guarded high, Hellfire attacked low and weakened his legs. When Noxvon attempted to evade he’d merely close the gap and give him no space to breath. Worst yet was when he attempted to retaliate and the Rhihon would always evade, grapple him and throw him to the ground. All he could do then was get up quickly and return to his defense.
“Is this it?! Is this all?!” He called out to him as he continued pelting his defense with consecutive punches. “Forget what I said before, you’re just a disgrace! Treasure only in name! Toting authority over the weakest while cowering from the strong!”
“Shut your mouth!” Noxvon retorted as he avoided his latest punch and struck the claimant’s face with his own. Hellfire’s head recoiled back, and for a moment it seemed like there was some possibility of a rebound, until he felt the sharp sting of the Rhihon’s fist against his face.
He attempted to make some distance, but was jerked back only to find his collar now held tightly in Hellfire’s grip. Noxvon watched as he wiped away the blood trickling from his nose before uttering words that made the entire fight seem meaningless from that point forward. “You thought you could run? Always slipping away? That won’t work against me anymore.”
First dragged across the hall then pinned to the wall with his left hand still tightly clenching his collar. He attempted to defend, but uppercut to his stomach caused him to reel. Then two straights to his face for good measure. That was when his left hand released him, but only so it could connect with another uppercut to his abdomen. Right hook to his ribs followed by a left then another right. A left hook to his head and the strongest blow yet being the following right uppercut to his jaw. Noxvon couldn’t recall ever being punch hard enough to be lifted off the ground, and yet he couldn’t think on it long enough. Not when Hellfire immediately followed up with a jumping left kick to his head.
He didn’t fall. He refused to fall. His feet sliding across the floor until he halted several steps away. He recoiled for a moment, panting heavily as blood poured from the wounds on his face as well as his mouth and nose. But, regardless of the embarrassment of this entire situation, what made it worse was Hellfire’s laughter. His laughter as he watched him from his potions and rubbed his gloved knuckles with a brief moment of satisfaction. Almost as if he was enjoying this entire thing.
“Abomination. Wretch. Fake. Cur… Failure among your peers. Weakest of the treasures. Did you think you could beat me in combat? Did you think you could best the chosen consort of an ancient? Walk away unscathed from your dues?!”
“I am not the weakest, and I'm not going anywhere. Call me what you will, but I am not the weakest.” Noxvon responded only to find Hellfire sneering in his direction.
“True. Technically I suppose someone like Misnia would be considered weaker, but she has something you don’t. The charisma and smarts to remain out of my line of sight and avoid my wrath. You thought that I, Jerimyha Rhihon, would allow something like you to defeat me? My brother would fold you in half without even beginning to sweat, and yet you think that I would lose to you? I would destroy him! No… never… you have insulted what is mine and I will not fall until you have felt my wrath! My hatred!”
“Your hatred means nothing to me, Underworld.”
“Is that so?” Hellfire responded as he made his approach. Each footfall sounding heavier than the last; black flames erupting beneath every step. “I would slay humans and claimants, champions and aikekunai, kings and queens alike for my own desires.”
“Everyone knows that. You’ve made that clear with your past actions. I don’t need you to remind me why you’re a lunatic,” the word cut short as Hellfire’s hand grabbed hold of his neck.
“Plane non intellegis… Nihil est quod pro uxore mea non occiderem.”
(You clearly do not understand… There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t kill for my wife.)
His right hand extend towards his back, the executioner’s sword rising from its position on the ground and moving to meet its owner’s hand. Vĕreśĕlen almost seemed to purr with and unquenchable hunger as the weapon became wreathed in a black fire, and the moment it began falling to its target it pulsed with undeniable satisfaction. Or at least until Hellfire’s arm was stopped. He looked back slowly, his eyes red as hell’s fires and yet they did not faze the Desdon which met them with her own cold gaze. Litnia, her hand wrapped tightly around his wrist as a grow erupted from her throat. It wasn’t often claimants had the opportunity to see her not in the form of a void pup, but she was clearly displeased.
“Stop.” She spoke a simple order.
“Why exactly would I do something like that? Your reasoning had best be sound, or I will not tolerate this interruption.” His words seemed to boil just as black flames began seeping from his skin.
“You can’t kill him.”
“Why?”
“He gives me food. That’s it.”
“Huh?” Hellfire responded before looking at Noxvon and then turning his attention back to Litnia. “Hah! Hahahahah! Mercy on my soul, you got me! Felled by Litnia Desdon. I’ll accept that.”
“Will you stop?” Litnia asked while releasing his arm.
“You have my word, I ain’t gonna harm the little princess anymore. You hear that, Noxvon?” He said while letting go of the treasure.
“Are you serious?” Noxvon responded. “All of this and it ends just like that? You’re seriously going to walk away now? How much more do you plan to embarrass me?!”
“You should be glad. I planned on takin your left arm and giving it to me niece as a gift, but now you get to keep all of your limbs intact. I’d suggest giving your loyal pet a treat for her troubles. Before she runs off to her real owners” Hellfire said while pointing his sword towards the room they had started in. The scabbard quickly came flying out and covered his weapon while also extinguishing the flames on it. “Oh! And one more thing.”
The wounds on his right arm bubbled and overflowed with what looked like both blood and black flames. Dripping like magma before cooling up his arm and to the palm of his gloved hand. A wretched flame, a corrupt flame, a flame crafted with what could only be visualized as a seedbed of hatred infused at its center. Noxvon knew this fire. He knew it well. The fire Jerimyha had used to burn away not just the lives of others, but also their souls along with them. The flames that gave him the title Noxvon called him by. The Flames of the Underworld. Erasing a person whole through raw destruction and hatred alone. And now that flame was aimed directly at him… and yet, just as it flared outward like a tide of vermin seeking to devour him whole it washed over him in a serene wave of green fire.
“Are you serious?!” The treasure coughed out as the fire clung to him like glue. His skin tingling, eyes reddening and body itching all over.
“Just a little somethin to keep me on your mind. Have fun, little Desdon.” Hellfire insulted him to the very end before turning to Litnia. “You mind giving me a ride back to the forge? I need to get back before Evyette wakes up.”
“I don’t give rides.” Litnia responded.
“I know you don’t… what? Just bring me to the forge!”
“Can I have a treat if I do?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll set you o fire if you don’t?”
“Hmm… I don’t like fire. It burns. Okay, I’ll take you.”
The door creaked open to a dark room, and his steps didn’t make a single sound. He knew for a fact his mother would be proud as he glided across the home both with grace and peak form. Directly to the kitchen where he’d quickly gather the ingredients for a well earned reward after a night of swift revenge. His few wounds stung ever so slightly, but that was the cost of taking a few good hits. Then again, the damage itself had already been healed up nicely after some time skulking through the dark. All he wanted to do now was get a good drink and relax.
Dark rum, light rum, banana liqueur, blackberry liqueur, pineapple juice, lime juice and grenadine. It was like an act practiced for several hundred years, the way each bottle spun and twirled through the air as their contents hit their mark. He didn’t care to put ice in the shaker before he closed it off and began to shake. Black flames engulfing the container as he flipped and spun it around, only stopping once a thin layer of ice formed on the metal. He’d carefully remove the cap, strain the contents into his favorite glass, and quickly grab a handful of blackberries. He’d clasp them between his palms and concentrate a condensed black flame along with them before crushing the frozen items into a fine powder. That would then be sprinkled onto the drink itself before a prepared slice of pineapple was added to the rim of the glass for garnish.
He marveled at his creation for a moment. Taking a view from several different angles at this perfectly prepared rum runner, before tracing his pointer finger across the rim of the glass and leaving behind a trail of black embers. Now it was perfect. He gathered all the ingredients and carefully placed them back where they belonged without making even the slightest sound. Replacing his gloves with a fresh pair in the process only to turn back and find Evyette taking casual sips from his beverage. He froze in place, but immediately smiled and approached.
“Heeeeyyy Evy. How was your nap?” He asked while leaning over the counter top.
“It was fine… how was your visit to the void?” She asked while taking another sip.
“What? No, I just went to the shop and did a bit of inventory to make sure I was ready to open up tomorrow night. Nothin too serious.”
“Interesting. And yet I can’t help but notice you forgot to change into a new set of clothes…” she said with her eyes peering down at his attire. The same thing he’d worn when confronting Noxvon. Still with traces of blood on them.
“Yeah, there ain’t no point in trying to keep it secret.”
“You didn’t do anything too crazy, did you?” She asked while simultaneously gauging the validity of his response.
“What? Of course not. I just had a talk with the boy… then an exchange of blows… then a one sided beat down… then I set him on fire a little bit, but that wasn’t anything too serious.”
“You set him on fire?” Evyette chuckled.
“Hey, it’s your fault. You shouldn’t have told me he was allergic to green. You know I like to use that type of information,” he said with a content smile.
“Of course I knew. You and your mum are both so similar in that regard it’s terrifying. But I believe I now have a right to be upset with you.”
“C’mon! I didn’t do nothin that bad!” She stared at him for a moment. “I mean… yeah, I might have punched him in the face a few time, but that’s his fault! He should have blocked!”
“You said you had calmed down. So was that a lie?”
“Absolutely not. I did calm down. That’s mainly the reason why I didn’t just, you know… kill him. I thought about it, almost did it, but that would just cause unnecessary problems. Primarily I didn’t want you too upset with me. Then again, I’m pretty sure Novevu wouldn’t give a damn. Fuckin Soivan is better suited to be next Desdon ancient.”
“So you wanted me a little upset with you?” She joked.
“Hah! Gotta keep my wife in a spicy mood, all things considered. We can call it even since you did just steal my drink.”
“You’re terrible,” Evyette laughed while finishing the rest of his latest creation. “Make me another or I’ll stay mad.”
“You’re actually mad?” Hellfire asked while gathering more ingredients.
“Yes. So make me another drink. A different one. Something sweet.”
“Damn, guess I don’t got much of a choice. Since we’re both up, and I’m in the mood, how about I throw together a few and we see which ones are the best? I do got a few new concoctions I’m tryin out and I’ll need my favorite taste tester for em.”
Evyette watched as he gathered all the alcohol, fruits and secondary ingredients he had stocked up in a massive group on their counter top. His smile was natural, honest, lacking any falsehoods. His mood clearly upbeat as he hummed while gathering several glasses. But his eyes, ever hungry and desiring, were shining a primeval crimson. He’d gone out, he’d done what he had done, but deep down he clearly felt that it wasn’t enough. She knew it even if he never said it, just how much he adored her. It was written all over his heart, and that’s why she knew deep down he’d still choose to go. But the hatred behind his eyes never truly went out no matter how dim the embers managed to get. That was why she had grown accustomed to snuffing them out where he could not.
Hellfire was distracted, but not enough to ignore a peck on his cheek. His eyes quickly moving to meet her. “Thank you. Even if you didn’t need to, I’m glad you were thinking about me.”
“Don’t thank me.” Now she had gained his full attention. “I was just being selfish. Nothin more; nothin less. And I'm always thinking about you.”
“Either way, I’m glad. If you’re being selfish on my behalf then I’ll take that as a good thing. It just means I’m being spoiled. No one else would dare to spoil the ancient of fire, but you always seem to find a way, dark star.”
It was always easy to give and take kisses from Hellfire. Primarily because he was so good at it, but mainly because he knew how to set moods. There never seemed to be a wrong time. Maybe it was because he too was a Rhihon and was merely good at these types of things, but Evyette knew better than that. It was just the type of man he is. Even if no one else knew it. A kiss which cleared his subconscious of excess thoughts and worries. A kiss which swept away all unnecessary agitations and stress. And it was with that kiss those flames died down and the blue was back.
“I really just can’t beat you at all, can I?” Hellfire sighed when she finally released him.
“Nope. Now make my drink. I’m still mad.”
“Hah! Alright. I’ll just have to take your word for it, hot head. You can even call lil Phianette and you can both share. I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“Because she’s scared of you,” Evyette laughed while eating the pineapple from the glass.
“What? Why?!”
“Did you forget the last time you saw her you literally showed her your heart through your rib cage?”
“Oh yeah, you’re right… shit.”